


Cloud

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3126848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khan takes a shower to counteract the depression of being left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cloud

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for saklani2’s “Khirk, Jim comforting Khan after they resettle Khan’s people and he then has to leave them behind to serve on Enterprise as part of parole” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The showers aboard the USS Enterprise are only marginally better than they were in prison. It’s a too-fluffy world he’s landed in. Freedom was the only comfort not afforded him in custody, despite all his crimes, regardless of the progress of his ‘rehabilitation,’ and now that he’s on the outside again, freedom still isn’t quite in his grasp.

He has free reign of the ship, he supposes. Where he wants to go, at least, though his clearance is no higher than a yeoman’s. He’s fit to command, fit to be an _admiral,_ but he spends his parole serving lesser beings coffee instead, and he turns the spray of the shower as hot as he can make it, just to scrub away that irritation. 

There’s a sadness, too, under the outrage, that surfaces every now and again, when he’s alone with his thoughts and he can’t suppress it any longer. It’s easier to be outraged at the humiliation, but he _hurts_ when he thinks of what this embarrassment left behind. The rest of his crew, free of crime but _dangerous_ are still back on that forsaken world, unfrozen but cut off from the galaxy. He’s escaped to the stars, given modern comforts and even the touch of a handsome lover that took him years to earn, and the rest of them are sunk in backwater dust. And he can’t visit them. He can’t see them. He isn’t even allowed updates on the planet’s status. Until his parole ends, he’s an isolated prisoner, with a large, crew-shaped hole in his chest. 

The water turns his skin pink instead of peach as it slips down his stomach, around his thighs to pool at his feet. He stares blankly at the white tile floor of the shower fixture, and the little drain that faked gravity pulls the remnants towards. It doesn’t do to get bogged down in that sorrow again. Revenge is no longer an option. He already killed the man responsible, recaptured the trust of the man he abused to get there, and now the smartest plan is just to wait it out. Another five years. Then he’ll be able to see his people again, to guide them through whatever horrors they face alone. They’re skilled and powerful in their own ways, and they’ll survive, but he’s their rightful leader, and someday, he’ll make it back to them. 

In the meantime, he gathers a fistful of soap out of the dispenser in the side, letting it bubble up in his palm. He spreads that across his shoulders, running slickly along his collarbone, mixing with the boiling water. He turns the temperature down only marginally, unwilling to do any permanent damage, and his skin’s already shining red. The burns will fade away, like all his bruises. He rubs the soap across his breast, palms lingering over his nipples, maybe wanting a distraction. Something. While his right hand dips lower, trailing soap into the dark curls below his stomach, his left thumb runs around his nipple, pebbling it into a hard bud. He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, leaping away from thoughts of his crew to the one thing that always calms him, soothes him, roots him in this moment and makes him think this might not be so bad. There’s a silver lining to these circumstances. 

He hears the bathroom door slide open and footsteps trail across the floor. Though his muscles tense on instinct, Khan recognizes the gate, and it’s easy to relax again. He curls his fingers around the base of his cock, limp, for now. One pump with the soap and water, and Khan tosses back his head, leaning forward into the spray, picturing the gorgeous form of his lover, flushed and bare and stretched out before him, and his cock twitches in his hands. His blood rushes down to fill it, and he pumps harder while the glass shower door slips aside. 

A man steps into the basin, closing the door again to catch the steam. Khan knows exactly who it is, so he doesn’t bother looking. He’s busy fisting his cock. The man behind him steps right into him, flattening them together, a dry, hard chest digging into his wet back, hips thrusting into the curve of his ass. Toned arms reach around his waist, and plush lips kiss behind his ear. The captain’s shift is over. 

Which puts Khan on the menu, and Khan pushes his ass back into his lovers’ half-hard cock, grinding in place. He’s ready to play; it’s just what he needs. Jim leans over his shoulder, ready and waiting, and Khan bends to kiss his lips, long and hard while their bodies writhe together.

When Jim pulls back, he murmurs, “What’s wrong?” For a mere, un-enhanced human, he’s remarkably thoughtful. Empathetic. A many of many talents. Khan pecks his lover’s cheek but doesn’t answer. There’s only one thing that ever troubles him. 

Jim glances down his body, spots his hand, and starts to nuzzle into Khan’s neck, catching onto the distraction. While one hand ghosts up Khan’s chest, flat and feeling, squeezing and kneading muscles like meat, the other ducks between Khan’s legs, closing over Khan’s hand. Khan pulls his own fingers away because he’d rather have Jim’s. He even helps wrap Jim’s smaller but strong digits around his base, squeezes them to the right pressure he needs, and guides Jim through the first pump. He wants it hard and a little bit painful this time. The stroke gives him a jolt of pleasure, the force just barely hurting, and he lets out a needy sigh as he relaxes back into Jim’s hold. 

Jim is good to him. Jim holds him tight, grinding lazily into his ass while stroking his cock, long, broad things that come faster and faster the more Jim goes. Khan pulses in his hand, now rock-hard and reeling. It’s easy to lose himself in it. Jim pets across his chest, too, even stops to tease his left nipple, pluck at the abused nub and roll it around. Jim’s teeth graze Khan’s neck while he works, trail down Khan’s shoulder and sink into his flesh, making Khan arch and hiss in delight, one hand reaching back for Jim’s soft blond hair. 

Jim’s hard in no time. Khan can feel the thick rod slide between his cheeks with a feverish rhythm. Khan makes no move to pleasure his lover back, because his stamina is legendary, and they’ll fuck again once he’s come. 

But first, he pours himself into Jim’s ministrations, rocks into Jim’s hand, bites off Jim’s name and thrusts forward, his orgasm flooding him with a roar. Half outside the spray of the water, Khan’s cock shoots his load across the tile, and Jim pumps him faster and bites into him harder, milking out jet after jet of sticky white cum. It doesn’t stop until he’s completely spent, his mind fogged over with pleasure.

Then he turns around to capture Jim’s mouth with his own. He might be stuck here, but he can at least enjoy his silver lining.


End file.
